


One Last Safe Place

by foxdreams



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Amnesia, Confessions, Dreams, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everything is fine until it's not, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Shibuya if you can call it that, Rage form cameo, Surrealism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxdreams/pseuds/foxdreams
Summary: Sora can’t seem to remember most things, like how long he’s been here, or why, or what’s keeping him from waking up. All he knows is he’s lost something important, and maybe a stranger named Riku can help him find the missing piece.
Relationships: Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 110
Collections: Re⊕Collect: A Soriku Fic Collection





	One Last Safe Place

**Author's Note:**

> Listen I know the summary is rude but, hear me out, (I trip and thousands of pictures of soriku fall from my pockets)
> 
> This fic first appeared as part of the re:collect soriku zine. Be sure to check out the whole collection!

Sora was waiting.

He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for—just that he was.

Either he always had been, or that was just as far back as his memory went, now—not that he’d know.

It wasn’t so bad wherever he had ended up, even if he was lacking details on how he’d arrived.

Sora had a collection of islands to call his own, if they were even that: little spits of floating land over an endless abyss under it all. Each was unique in its appearance. First, his favorite: a true island, sandy and peppered with trees, and close by, a sunset town with a tall, tilted tower and a phantom train that never came whose tracks disappeared into the nothingness. Rising in the farther distance was a city of brilliant white spires, bone-like in their expanse.

For as big as it seemed at first, it was too small now. Sora had been around every island countless times, had walked every path here for as far as it could go until it turned and doubled back, leading back to where he was. So he’d memorized every rock and shell and tree, and clung to those memories like a lifeline, thumbing through them to assure himself he wouldn’t lose those, too.

He did remember silly, small things: the color of his bedroom walls, the smell of salt spray, and the feeling of kicking blankets off during a hot summer night. It was just the big thing he couldn’t seem to remember. He knew it was there, locked behind some door he didn’t have a key to, tantalizing, and just out of reach.

Every time he wandered too close to it, he would back away without knowing why. So he learned it was better not to wonder, hoping it’d reveal itself the more he pointedly looked away from it.

That particular day, Sora had taken to leaving footsteps on the beach of his favorite island, endless, wandering, aimless things that did nothing except assure him he was here, that he could wake tomorrow and still see them there.

It wasn’t like a real beach—he remembered those; the waves here were frozen in time, unmoving white crests rising high in the distance in mid-crash.

He was kicking along the sand, trying to picture the sound of real waves—that was his deal with himself: remember one new thing a day, and maybe work his way around to the big thing—when he appeared.

Something flashed in the sky above him, so bright he had to shield his eyes against it as it shattered the surface of the waves. The booming crash followed a second after.

Sora scrambled to his feet, heart pounding, hand grabbing for a weapon—it didn’t matter, it wasn’t here—when the person that hit the waves stood up.

The figure rose in the distant surf, shaking his hair out—a silvery sheen, so bright it was almost white under the unending sun, and when he turned his head and finally settled on Sora, something in him tried to leap out of his chest. Sora was lunging towards the shoreline before he could think, slipping and skidding where his bare feet caught the impacted sand as he ran.

Sora opened his mouth, shaped it into a joyous cry, and—stopped. It died in his throat, because he had no idea what he was going to say. A name, probably, a familiar one—but it fizzled out like a dying sparkler in his mind, leaving only emptiness in its wake.

They almost collided at the edge of the surf. The stranger jerked forward and his arm rose in an awkward, unsure way, like he was going to reach for Sora, but thought better of it. Then he just stared at Sora for several seconds, helpless, like he was the answer to every question he’d ever had.

He opened his mouth, but no sound escaped.

“Um,” Sora said, because it was starting to get a little weird, both of them just standing there in oppressive silence. “Hi! I’m Sora. And you are?”

There was a beat, like he was waiting for him to say something else. Sora felt pinned beneath the searching green of his eyes until they finally looked away.

“Riku. I’m Riku,” the stranger said..

“Riku,” he repeated, wondering at how his mouth knew the sound. “Ri-ku,” he sounded out, musically. Sora’s face split into a grin. “What a cool name!”

Riku’s smile looked like it hurt to make. “If you say so.”

“Say. You seem familiar. Do I… know you?” Sora leaned forward, searching his face. Riku leaned back, blinking fast before cutting his eyes away.

“I’d hope you’d remember me, if we had.” Riku looked at him sidelong, sardonic. “Unless I didn’t make much of an impression.”

“Huh,” Sora sounded out. “Well, in that case… I haven’t seen anyone else since I got here, so—would you want to be friends?”

“You always try to befriend total strangers? Just like that?”

“Could be,” Sora said, grinning. “Or maybe you’re just special. I can’t remember!”

Riku’s face cranked up into a slow, awkward smile, like he was kinda rusty, but trying. It was awfully endearing.

Sora liked him, he decided. Simple as that.

“Somehow, I feel like even if I said no, you’d find a way to make it happen.”

“Hmm,” Sora hummed, looking out over the sea. “I think you’re right.”

——-

Sora insisted on showing Riku around, which was really just a winding walk along the island with Sora pointing out his favorite trees along the way. Nevermind that they were curiously similar; he had to pass the time somehow. Finally, when the clocktower had chimed six, Sora took his customary spot on the long, curling tree that extended over the boundary of the island so his legs dangled over open space.

“Sora!” Riku exclaimed.

“What? I do this all the time.” Sora sprawled along the bark, eyebrows raised, as if to say See? Perfectly safe.

Riku sidled up more carefully, leaning against the tree and staring at the sheer drop by his feet with apprehension.

“This is like an island. Islands of… memory?” Riku squinted out into the distance, at the blurry shape of the other islands floating somewhere out there. “Never seen anything like this.”

“Yeah, this world is pretty cool—or, it’s more like a bunch of little worlds. I can hop between them if I really try, but it’s hard. You need a lot of balance.”

“Can you show me?” Riku asked him. “I’d like to see more.”

Sora’s chest did a weird somersault at the prospect. “Y-yeah! Definitely! Bet it’d be a lot less boring with two.”

Riku snorted, but from this angle Sora could see the corner of his mouth lift.

“What’re you looking at?”

The stranger—Riku, he corrected himself—was staring down at his wrist with a furrow between his brows Sora wanted to smooth away. He dug his nails into his palms at the weird thought. It’d really been too long since he’d talked to anyone if he was getting weird urges like that.

“When my watch chimes, I have to go.”

“Ooooh,” Sora intoned, tipping his head back to stare at the sky. “You’re from another world, right?”

The stranger seemed startled by that, if the way his eyebrows flew up was any indication. “You remember—I mean, how’d you guess?”

“It’s okay!” Sora pressed on, waving his hands around. “I won’t tell anybody.” Not that there was anyone to tell, but.

“No, it’s—it’s okay. I was just surprised. Not many people know about that.”

“That’s because I’m from another world too,” Sora said, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “Actually. What brings you to this—?” He didn’t know what to call it, so he just waved his hand around.

“I’m…” Riku started, then stopped, and Sora knew to wait. “Looking for something important that I lost. It should be around here somewhere.”

“Really?!” Sora exclaimed, crouching in his excitement. “Me too! Only I don’t know what mine looks like. A… memory, I guess. But I think I’ll know it when I see it.”

“When you see it…” Riku repeated. “Yeah, same for me.”

“Why don’t we look together? I’ll give you the grand tour—” Sora waggled his eyebrows. “And we can check all the islands for the thing you lost!”

“I’d like that,” Riku said, face flickering for a second like the buildings did, sometimes, when they thought Sora wasn’t looking. “It’ll be faster with two. Right?”

“Right!” Sora agreed.

Riku’s watch chose that moment to chime.

“Guess the tour’ll have to wait. That’s my cue,” Riku said with a wave. Sora was struck with the irrational urge to grab his hand as it lowered, but swallowed it back, plastering the smile back on. “See you tomorrow, Sora.”

“Oh… yeah. Seeya, Riku.” Part of him wanted to run after him. Get it together, Sora.

Then he was gone, just like that.

For a long time after, Sora sat chewing on a stick, staring out to where Riku had disappeared and wondering if he’d just hallucinated the whole thing—when he noticed something.

The sound.

Waves, crashing against each other and breaking against the shore and—he was on his feet and launching himself into the spray in an instant, laughing in delight as one caught him and bowled him over, like something had unstuck time.

Tomorrow. For the first time in a long time, Sora had something new to look forward to.

——-

The second day found Sora much the same as the first, except this time, the waves rolled lazily into the shore. Something about it was right, and he thought yes, this was how it was always supposed to be. How had he forgotten that? Long days in the surf with Kairi, the name came to him, Tidus, Wakka...

“Hey, Sora!” Riku’s voice climbed the dunes and echoed against the distant trees as he approached. It was curious how he could just do that. First he wasn’t there, and then he was, but Sora knew he hadn’t blinked. Sora had to scramble to a sitting position before something came careening at his face. “Catch!”

Riku threw it at him and he fumbled it into the sand, where it landed, point down.

“You brought me a… sword?” Sora hefted it and twisted it this way and that in his hands, examining.

“You said you were bored yesterday,” Riku explained, rolling his shoulders out, his own sword tightly in hand. “This is one way to pass the time.”

“You serious?” Sora asked, something breathless and excited alive in his chest. The weight of the sword felt good in his hand, familiar, like the keyblade but lighter.

“What? You scared?” Riku said, cocky smirk in place. It was like an entirely different Riku, one that made Sora’s face feel warm at the prospect of competition.

“As if!” Sora yelled, dropping into a crouch just in time for Riku to slam down on his guard from above.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so alive, blood thrumming in his veins, and he caught and parried and danced around Riku’s hits like he’d been born for it. As the light wore thin, they began to falter, Sora shaking with the first signs of exhaustion despite the grin still etched on his face as his swipes got slower.

Riku won, barely, with a well-timed sweep that had Sora hitting the sand with a groan. Riku joined him a second later, radiating smugness. Sora kicked at his ankle, lazily, and got a chuckle for his trouble.

“So,” Riku started, his voice rough. “What do you remember?”

“I remember some stuff,” Sora said, using his hands to gesture. “It’s just, like… there are pieces missing, and I remember I always sucked at puzzles. I remember growing up with Kairi, and Tidus and Selphie and the others, and that time I cracked my head open on a coconut tree when I was nine, and how much I hated math, but—“

Riku sighed. “I see.”

“And whatever I did forget, there’s one really big box, and something… really precious belongs there. It hurts a lot, like my heart is calling out for it. Just wish I knew what.”

He felt Riku stiffen against him.

“It’s okay, though!” Sora said hurriedly, pressing against him reassuringly. “It’s not so bad here, and I always figured, well, it’ll come back eventually, right? I just gotta be…”

He stopped. Most of Riku’s hair was obscuring his face, but the single eye he did see looked far away.

“What?”

Suddenly, the ground shook—just a little. Just enough.

“Did you feel that?” Riku asked.

“Feel w—”

There it was again, but stronger. And again. The earth itself trembled and suddenly Sora was on his feet and everything was rolling sideways as the leaves shook with the vibration. A loud crack sounded as a fissure opened between them, widening into a ravine. He was standing frozen as it ate the swords they’d tossed aside, pulling them in like quicksand, fast—like events had been placed on fast forward.

“Sora!” Riku called for him, reaching desperately over the divide.

“Riku!” Sora called back, and his head hurt.

“Jump!” Riku called, and, heart pounding, Sora got a running start and did as he was told. Riku had to hook his arm around him and haul him as he lost purchase in the sand, and then they were off.

“It’s collapsing!” Riku hollered. “Go!”

“We better be fast, then!” Sora yelled back, and grabbed Riku’s hand to make sure he kept up. Right off the edge of the island were several floating boulders and debris marking the way to the second island, Sora led them there. They ran, sending sand flying behind them as they alighted and then launched from each pillar in turn.

“Keep up!” Riku hollered over the din, and there was one, because the island was breaking apart behind them, swallowed in long swaths; a sinking ship in the arms of a kraken, squeezing in places until the last part of the paopu tree broke and went under. Their pillars of sand fell apart mere footsteps behind them, blowing away into streams of sediment that streaked the air.

When they hit solid ground, Sora slammed into Riku so hard he bounced back and landed flat, seeing stars. They’d made it to the next island—Twilight Town, he recalled. Familiar red brick and mortar and a train that never came.

“What…” Sora said. He couldn’t finish, suddenly curling into his knees on the pavement, grasping at his head as a hammer slammed against the inside of his eyelids over and over and over. “I’ve seen that before, Riku,” he insisted, cracking one eye to look up even though it hurt. “Haven’t I?”

“That’s…” Riku’s eyes darkened. “That’s because it really happened. I think it’s just repeating, maybe. Like a sleeping world.”

It had never done that before, not since Riku had come.

“I have to go,” Riku said, eying his watch. “Promise me you’ll stay here tonight. What just happened... I don’t like it.”

“Oh right. You’re gonna be late. Go on, old man, go home.”

“Sora,” Riku scolded, sounding remarkably like his mom.

“Fine. I promise,” Sora intoned, falling back on the pavement.

“I’ll see you,” Riku said, softly. “Really. Be careful.”

——-

The next day, Riku brought him photographs.

They found a shady spot at some metal table under an awning by a restaurant, as Sora knew the best spots to hide from the burn of the setting sun in Twilight Town. Now that time was passing in earnest, Sora was hoping he’d finally get to see the city at night, instead of in perpetual twilight.

“A photo album?”

“I thought it might help with the missing memories,” Riku explained. The spine was red leather and weather-beaten, as if it’d been poured over countless times.

He stopped on a page that seemed familiar—two smiling faces, with the clock tower rising in the background.

“I know them,” Sora said, and he did: their names slotted right into place. “Roxas, right? And… Xion.”

“So you remember them,” Riku murmured, crossing his arms. “That’s good.” Sora glanced up at him, but he just shook his head.

Sora turned page after page. There were photos of seven smiling faces in front of the bistro, and all of them were covered in what looked like batter and frosting, each holding out a cake, some better than others. The names came to him easily as they always did: Aqua, and Terra, Ventus, Kairi… even Vanitas had made it out.

In the middle of all of them, smiling proudly, was…

“That's me,” Sora stated the obvious. Now that he’d noticed, there were so many photos of Sora it was kind of embarrassing—at the beach, too-large sunglasses across his nose, and a few candids where he had to have been mid-blink.

“I did say they were your friends,” Riku told him. The corner of his lips was quirking.

“But not yours?” Sora shot back.

“What makes you ask that?”

“Well, why’re there no photos of you in here?”

“Of—of me?” Riku looked genuinely at a loss at the question. “I guess I never noticed.”

Sora frowned. “You shouldn’t leave yourself out of stuff so much,” he said, feeling very much like he was giving an old lecture. “Especially with your friends. Otherwise you’ll have nothing to remember it by!”

Riku gently closed the book. “I have a lot of stuff I’d rather forget.”

“Hey,” Sora said, halting him. “Say cheese!”

“Wh—?”

Sora extended both arms, making a rectangle between both his hands. His thumb acted as the shutter. “Click! There. Now I’ll remember this day forever, so you don’t have to.” He stopped to think. “Though, when I get home—” Sora started, blinking, then realized no, of course, this wasn’t home. “When we get home, I’m taking so many photos of you you’ll get really sick of me.”

Instantly, Riku went red to his ears, and Sora felt an odd sensation of triumph in his chest.

“I wouldn’t get sick of you, though you’re welcome to try.”

This time it was Sora’s turn to sputter, grasping the book to his chest like a lifeline. Riku only threw his head back and laughed at him, which only made it worse. Sora kicked him under the table.

“Keep the book,” Riku said, shoving it into his hands. “Maybe it’ll help you put things back together.”

“Thanks,” Sora said, and let their fingers brush just a little when he took it.

“So… what now? Think your special thing is here?”

“Worth a shot,” Riku said with a shrug. “Show me around?”

“You got it. Mission find Riku’s precious thing is a go!”

They checked everywhere: first the rooftops around the bistro, then the tunnels beneath the city, then the deserted station. After each one, Riku simply shook his head, and they moved on. Even the clocktower held nothing of interest save exhaustion born of so many stairs.

When boredom finally took hold, Sora had found the little theater that played movies and had dragged Riku over, even though it only ever played the same one on repeat. By the third they were acting it out, making up their own alternate endings, and Sora had almost forgotten everything else—so of course, he had to ruin it.

“Say, can you take me with you when you go?” It wasn’t what he’d meant to say. “Kidding!” Sora exclaimed, waving his hands. “I was kidding. I know it’s probably against the rules, right?”

Riku looked pained. “It’s… complicated.” Then he exhaled, slowly. “I can stay a little longer,” he murmured.

“Oh,” Sora said. “Are you sure?”

“Oh? You worried about getting me home on time now? What a gentleman,” he quipped, flashing him a teasing smirk.

“Not a chance!” Sora responded automatically, punching his shoulder. Both of them laughed, even as Riku caught his arm and wrestled it behind his back. “Hey—Riku! No fair!”

“You’re too slow,” Riku said simply, shrugging one shoulder. “Nothing unfair about it.”

“I’ll show you slow!” Sora shot back, ducking under his arm to shove at him.

The play fighting became wrestling that became half-hearted and tired as they chased each other through the streets. By the time the sun began to set both of them sprawled on their backs on a struggle mat someone had left in the square.

There was a lonely, solitary sound as the clock rang out—ten tolls, this time. Something tugged at Sora’s heart, searching for his attention.

“Riku,” He started again. “Are you sure—”

“Sora,” he cut him off. “Stop worrying.” Riku threw an arm over his eyes and snorted.

“Somethin’ funny?”

“Nothing. Hey, look—the stars are coming out.”

So they were: one by one, starting with a few that multiplied until there were thousands of lights winking across the vastness of the sky. In all the times Sora had been here, it’d never been anything but perpetual twilight; he’d never seen the stars from here.

In fact, ever since Riku had come, things had started… moving around them. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? He chanced a look over, at the way the new starlight played over Riku’s face, and he felt the lurch to his toes.

“Hey,” Riku’s voice was soft. “Sora, are you okay?”

“I… keep getting really close to remembering something. Really important. But whenever I get too close, it just hurts.” He felt his fingers dig into his own stomach. “It hurts so much.”

Riku was up in an instant, raising a hand like he wanted to touch Sora’s face. “Don’t—force it. If you do that it—” Riku sighed through his nose, then dropped his hand. Sora was sad to see it go. “Nevermind. Just let it come to you, instead. Like the rest did.”

Sora stared at him, wide-eyed.

“What?”

“Now who’s a worrywart?”

“Shut up,” Riku grumbled. The pain receded, and the fear did with it, until it was just the two of them, breathing in comfortable silence.

“Were the stars on the island the same as these?”

“Well, they were—” Riku shot upright, his eyes boring holes in Sora. “You remember?”

Sora’s smile was sad. “I told you. Some things. Just not the important ones.”

Automatically, Sora extended his thumb and pinky finger, closing one eye to see it better. He skimmed the edge of several stars with his thumb, but stopped when he couldn’t find… something.

To his left, Riku was doing the same, tilting his hand this way and that. “Can’t find that North Star?” Riku asked, without looking at him.

“How did you—“ That was exactly right, now that Riku told him—that was what he’d been looking for.

“You always...” Riku started, then stopped himself with a little laugh, a bit of tongue poking over his lip. “Nevermind. Here.”

Their shoulders brushed when he shifted closer, and Sora nearly jumped at the warm touch of his fingers along his wrist as Riku gripped it, moving Sora’s hand until his thumb rested just below the brightest light. Weird, how he hadn’t seen it ‘til now.

“There,” Riku breathed, and it fanned over Sora’s cheek from their closeness, something warm and familiar twisting in Sora’s gut. He wanted to turn his head, wanted to see Riku’s expression, read something there like he would read their latitude in the stars, but—the moment ended. Riku shifted back and raised his own hand again, and Sora was more lost than before he’d started looking.

Sora couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t the stars he was looking for.

——-

On the fourth day, Riku didn’t show.

It was probably a good thing, he reasoned, because Twilight Town had fallen overnight—crumpled into itself until it broke into brick and cobblestone and points of light. He was lucky to escape it, scrambling over the broken parapets of the next island over. Sora had to look away as it died, the bell ringing over it all until it finally went silent.

Now, he perched on the highest belfry in the white city, staring at the empty spots the islands had been. The hours ticked by, the sun cast long, probing shadows, and Sora poured over the photographs spread around him on the sun-bleached brick.

They gave him no further answers.

Something was missing, or—he was losing, or—he was lost, and if he followed the thought, tugged on it like a string telephone, nothing was at the other end but the sudden release of unraveling rope.

Something felt wrong. Sora pictured the slow descent of Twilight Town into the yawning dark and wondered when that would be him.

What happened if he died in this dream?

His fingers stilled. What happened if Riku did?

When sleep found him, it was plagued with half-remembered dreams: a cyclone of darkness, the white slash of a hand reaching for his across a broken shore, a wooden sword at his feet in anger, and above it all, Riku, slipping through his fingers over and over and over again.

——-

Riku didn’t show for the next few days, either, and Sora wondered if, he became still enough, he could be a statue, too, unseeing and cold marble. Maybe then he’d stop seeing the glint of light off silver hair, disappearing around corners and alleyways, always three steps ahead of him, never looking back.

——-

Sora was curled into the shade of an alcove, thick with overgrown flowers, so when Riku finally did appear he nearly walked right by before catching himself.

“Sora,” he said, bewildered. Took in the sight of him, probably red-rimmed eyes, white knuckles around his knees.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“You promised you’d come back,” Sora croaked. He’d gotten used to not talking, again.

“I did,” Riku said, taking another cautious step forward. “I’m here.”

“It’s been days.”

Riku flinched. “I had to report back on everything. When Sora didn’t respond, he tried a lilting tone. “Didn’t think you’d miss me so much.”

He stepped closer, reaching out a hand, but Sora flared up like oil spilled on a fire.

“No!” Sora exploded, his vision fuzzy. “I had nightmares, Riku! Over and over again, I saw you falling through my fingers, and I thought you’d—I thought you were never coming back, that this time was for good, and then I would—disappear too, and you’d never know.”

There was a flash of something across Riku’s face, and his mouth went thin and quiet in a way that sent Sora’s heart to his knees.

“I’m not the one who left the last time,” Riku snapped, faster than Sora could blink or move.

It hit Sora somewhere deep and resonated like a struck bell, which told him it was true.

“I’m… That was unfair.” Riku’s throat worked, his face tilted away. “I know you don’t remember—” He cut himself off, then went silent, closing off.

There it was, between them: an ugly, silent, twisted thing neither of them wanted to claim.

“What don’t I remember, Riku?” Sora advanced on him, every step loaded.

“It doesn’t matter now—“

“Bullshit,” Sora spat. “If they weren’t real, if it doesn’t matter—you’d be able to look at me.”

“Sora—”

“You always—you always push yourself away from me to protect me! What about what I want?!”

“It’s not about want,” Riku argued with him. “I’m distracting you. They said—if you ever want to wake up you need focus and—maybe I never should have come.”

Sora stilled, his heart slowing. “Do you really mean that? You wish you’d never come?”

Riku flinched, but Sora didn’t care about that—only the black rage pressing against his ribs, expanding every time he breathed, until he thought he would burst. Sora had struck somewhere tender, and the dark thing under his skin wanted more, wanted to rip into it.

“Sora, of course I don’t, I’ll always come back for—” He hesitated, clenching his hand into fists. His jaw and eyes were so tight they burned. “None of us know what we’re doing here. Every time I come and I try to help, things get more unstable. I tried to tell them maybe I wasn’t the best fit for the job, if all I ever seem to do is keep hurting you on accident.”

“Riku,” Sora said flatly.

“I just made a mess anyway. Sorry.”

“Riku—I don’t want you to be sorry!” Sora yelled, exasperated. “I just want you to stay!”

His voice echoed off the high parapets of the white city, and Sora had a split second to process before hot pain split his head in two. He curled into himself as warm, thick darkness crawled up his legs and it felt welcome, like a soft invitation to give up, to sleep.

It had been so long since he’d slept...

Around them, towers began to crumple, forming open-mouthed expressions of despair as the windows stretched and buckled until they finally gave into gravity. It was like the islands but ten times worse, he had to—do something, but he couldn’t—his limbs were heavy with shadow, thick as tar.

Everything was going strangely red and blurry besides, like blood flooding his vision. Distantly, he heard the clang of the the bell towers caving in, the whirlwinds in the wake of its fall potently sweet with flowers.

In front of it all, his hand out, stalwart and immovable, was Riku.

“All I want is to stay,” Riku said, horribly calm, raising his hand in a trembling offer. “Okay, Sora?”

Sora blinked hard. It was hard to tell if his vision was swimming or everything was tilting sideways as it slid into the abyss yawning beneath their feet.

“Come on. I know you can do it.”

Sora stepped forward, and placed his hand in Riku’s. It was black as night, his nails curved like wicked blades that must have pricked as they encircled Riku’s wrist: shadow solidified for war.

But Riku just held his eyes, laced their fingers, and smiled.

“That’s better,” Riku said, gentle. “See? I’ve got you.”

And then they fell.

——-

When he woke, it was to Riku's face and an endless, cloudy sky, and his guilty expression as he went to retract the hand he’d been using to push hair out of Sora’s face. Sora caught it halfway. He was sprawled mostly over Riku’s lap as he was inspected.

Sora was so tired. Whatever weight in his chest had been expelled, satiated, and left him curiously empty. Upon checking his hands he saw only boring, brown and speckled human skin, and that was a comfort.

“I’m sorry,” Sora started.

“For what?” It was hard to roll up to sit, but Riku helped him until Sora’s cheek was pressed into his shoulder and Riku’s arm around his back.

“I don’t know what happened. I think I caused that. Broke it, or something.”

Riku laughed flatly, pulling one hand through his hair. “Guess we’re even, then.”

When Sora just looked at him, he went on.

“You remember the islands fell.” At Sora’s nod, he continued, staring down at his laced hands. “I… caused that. The real one. I was different, back then. It was a mistake. I ruined a lot of things.”

“So then it doesn’t matter,” Sora said. “If a different you did that, then you now has nothing to feel bad about.”

“That’s—” Riku snorted. “I missed…” He stopped himself, digging his fist into his chest like it really hurt. “Sounds so simple when you put it like that.”

“It can be simple,” Sora said firmly, sure to his bones. “It is that simple.”

“You would say that.”

“And you should listen!”

“Only if you take your own advice,” Riku shot back, and the familiarity of the conversation made Sora pause and shut his eyes against the sudden burn.

“Riku,” he said, and even that was effort. “Tell me the truth. Something’s wrong with me, right? That’s why I’m here.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Riku said reflexively. Sora gave him a look.

There was a hole in the sky, probably where they’d fallen through. The jagged edges let the stars shine through the ceiling of wherever this was, and Riku looked up at them.

Sora squeezed his hand. “Please tell me.”

It took several long moments of Riku searching his face before he began.

“There was an accident. You… broke apart. They hoped by putting you here, you’d be able to put it back together. The missing pieces.”

Sora nodded. It made sense—clearly he was in pieces.

Sora felt him tense. “It wasn’t… supposed to be like this. They said it was safe. Stable.”

“Well, so far it kinda sucks,” Sora huffed. “You can tell ‘em that.”

“Trust me, I did,” Riku said softly. “They thought, since time passes faster when I’m here if I stayed away, it would bide you more time. To figure it out.”

“That’s—” Sora made an exasperated sound. “Stupid!” Sora punched his arm. “I’m awful at puzzles! No way I’d figure it out alone!”

“So you said,” Riku agreed.

“So no more apologizing. Or yelling. My throat is killing me,” Sora said, falling back against Riku’s shoulder. He was really very comfortable.

“You were pretty scary,” Riku said, quirking a smile. “I’ve faced down monsters before, but I feared for my life a little there.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Sora scoffed, but it had worked: they were both laughing.

——-

Eventually, the cloudless sky of the Final World or—a memory of what Sora knew it was like—had yielded to dusk, and then twilight, until there were a million winking stars that put his memory to shame.

“Do you think it goes on forever?” Sora moaned. Everything hurt, and his feet were soggy since they had finally stopped to rest, and the ground was just wet.

Riku hummed. “Probably not. This is the end of the line, and even that has to have an end, somewhere.” He shifted, their shoulders brushing. “It is strange, though,” Riku said, with a hand curled under his chin. “I didn’t think there was another layer under the island worlds. What’s under memory?”

Sora shrugged. He felt for the picture he’d stored in his pocket, retracting it before it could get soggy. An end where he could wake up, maybe, and see them again.

“Do I have other people like this? Who miss me?”

Riku leaned over to look at the photo.

“You can’t imagine how many,” Riku said. “One for every star up there, probably.”

“Wow,” Sora intoned, with a hand over his heart. “Then I guess things can’t be that bad. As long as someone out there remembers me.”

“They never leave you. Even if you forget them. They just live in your heart instead. My friend told me that once.”

“Wow,” Sora whistled. “Your friend is sappy.”

“He—” Riku scrubbed at his eyes suddenly, and Sora frowned. “He really is.”

“Who… is he to you?”

It was out before he could stop it, even though the question made his blood run hot and cold in equal measure.

It hung there, between them, awaiting an answer.

“Someone really precious.”

His throat was thick, like he was talking through cotton. “I’m sure he knows. How much he means to you.”

Sora looked at Riku. Stared at the long hairs barely brushing the lids of his eyes and wondered who’d cut it for him, if he did it by himself, hand holding scissors and shaking a little as he tried to do an even line even though he never could, and wondered why he wanted to fix it. He couldn’t tell if it was a memory, or a thought, but it hurt.

“I’m… not sure that he does.”

Well, I can’t imagine someone not feeling the same about you,” Sora said, surprised to find his voice thick. “That’s awful! You’re so—” Words failed him, so he settled on, “Riku.”

“It’s okay. I’m happy just being by his side.”

“But that must hurt so much.” Sora wasn’t sure who he was telling, staring down at his own hand tangled in his shirt like a lifeline.

“A lot of things that hurt are still worth doing.”

Those eyes slid over to fix on his, and Riku frowned, bringing a hand up to brush below his eye with a gentle thumb.

“Sora,” he said, softly. “You’re crying.”

“I-I am?” Sora stuttered, feeling his cheeks. They were wet, unfamiliar, and he wrapped his hand around Riku’s before he could take it back. “Oh,” he said, trying to laugh on the end and failing. “I don’t...” He stared at Riku helplessly, and the tears came faster, blurring his vision, and he barely knew what he was doing when Riku opened his arms.

Sora didn’t hesitate to throw himself into them, clinging tight as he dared. Something in the comforting familiar press of another person’s warmth made the tears come faster, until he was hiccuping and gasping and apologizing all at once.

“It’s okay,” Riku soothed. “I’ve got you.”

But I don’t have myself, Sora thought. But… maybe it was okay, if Riku did.

“Wait a minute. We never found your precious thing,” Sora said, scrubbing at his stubborn eyes. “What if it was in Scala?”

“Oh no, I found it,” Riku said, then seemed to catch himself, flushing down to his shirt.

“You—” Sora repeated, meeting Riku’s eyes. “When…?”

Sora looked from the starry sky to Riku, who looked at him like he was precious, like he never wanted to let him go, and understood.

“Wait. Riku…” Sora mumbled, the weight of the thing in his heart heavy, a cup rapidly filling before he could pull away from the faucet. The world spun, or maybe it was just him, doing the spinning. It was harder still to break away from Riku to look at him.

“You—” Sora repeated, meeting Riku’s bewildered gaze. And suddenly, his heart was singing, something loud and abrupt and staccato and completely out of rhythm, and he licked his lips, the question already there. “Why can’t I remember you?”

“What?”

“Of course. I’ll know when I find it.” Sora took a step closer. “My heart knew it when I saw you. I just couldn’t hear it.”

Riku stepped back, disbelief all over his face, and Sora stepped forward again, seeing all at once: the familiarity, the photos, the nightmares, the half-remembered feelings.

“Sora?”

“I think —” Sora touched the ground, and it was warm, humming, familiar, like—

He kicked at the water with his foot, displacing it enough to see something else, something light. Oh, Sora thought, with the triumphant glee of finally slamming a final puzzle piece into place.

“You said it yourself, Riku!” The grin almost split his face. “This isn’t a world. It never was. This is my—”

The floor lit beneath them, the water melting away into points of light that rose over them, and in their wake, was Sora’s heart station.

“Heart!”

There was a long, jagged hole over the center, the glass there damaged and dull. Hairline fractures split the rest of it, some of them looking freshly mended. “I knew it,” Sora said.

Riku stared. “What are you… saying?”

“I’m saying that you’re—”

The glass gave beneath them, and Sora only had a second to dive for Riku’s hands before he fell into the chasm beneath him. Sora lunged over the edge of the glass, sneakers grabbing for purchase against the weight, teeth gritted against the pain lancing his arms. Riku’s arms clasped his where he hung over open air, and Sora wanted to laugh, because he’d finally figured it out in a moment like this.

“I’m getting really sick of this!” Sora yelled, digging his nails into Riku’s arms so hard he hissed. They were slippery, but Sora was determined.

“Sora,” Riku said, remarkably calm for a man dangling over the edge of nothingness. “Let me go.”

“I just!” Sora pulled him inch upwards with rage alone—”told you that you’re not leaving me again!”

“Sora, if you fall here, we don’t know what could happen!”

“So? What don’t you get about the fact that I’d—” He tugged again, and got another inch— “rather fall with you than let your sorry ass go again! Especially not when I’m—oof—so close to saving us both!”

“There’s no way you can haul me up there, Sora, trust me, this is the best thing—”

“Stop trying to die for me for one second, okay?!” Riku stared up at him, eyes so green they could have been black. It would have been funny in any other situation, him finally rendering Riku speechless. “Because I get it now!” he called, even as he felt the cracks beneath them widening, hungry, to draw him in too. “You’re my missing piece!”

Images flashed across his mind, so heady they overtook his senses: the scent of paopu and Riku’s familiar smirk, a meteor shower reflected on the water, the cold feeling of certainty as they sat at the very end of the world. His last thought before cold crystal became his home, the very last time he’d thought of Riku and known what it meant, how it resonated in his heart with someone he knew as deeply as he knew his own heart.

“I love you!”

Gravity seemed to… stop. The solid weight of Riku suddenly let up, and Sora looked down in surprise because Riku was—floating, or flying up to meet him, outlined in gold and the most beautiful thing Sora had ever seen. Sora scrambled up to meet him, feeling very shy, as Riku took his hands, and then they rose in a pillar of light, gently carried on unseen updrafts.

Far beneath them, a single pinprick of light shone out, expanding in waves of color until they lit in brilliant cascades, the familiar stained glass now whole and beautiful again—just changed. He was older now, the sky behind him brilliant and painted with a meteor shower, and with him was—

“Riku.”

Sora was going to cry all over again. In his defense, Riku didn’t look much better.

They’d barely alighted back on the station when Riku slammed them together together so hard it almost hurt, but it was okay, because sometimes the worthy things hurt.

“Sora. Do you… remember?”

“I remember,” Sora confirmed. “I remember you.” The tears slid fast and hot and helpless down his cheeks, “I can’t believe I ever forgot.”

“Guess I never made much of an impression,” Riku joked, and Sora couldn’t even be mad because he was wearing the dopiest grin he’d ever seen.

“I’m so happy that it's you I love.”

Something in Riku broke and he fisted Sora’s shirt, pulling him right to his chest, Sora’s nose digging into his neck. “God, I’m sorry, I couldn’t tell you, they told me you had to rebuild your heart on your own, I couldn't—I just never guessed—”

“I missed you,” Sora cried. “I missed you so much.”

“I told you I’d find you,” Riku said, tightening his grip. “I meant it.”

“Sorry I took so long.”

“I’d say you were just in time,” Riku told him, swiping at the tears between them.

“I love you,” Sora said again, and then Riku was cradling his head in his hands like Sora was every bit as precious as he felt, and Sora slid his hands to his shoulders and drew him as close as he could.

“I love you too,” Riku whispered, breath warm and stilting. He was shaking. “So much, Sora.”

They both went for the kiss at once, and slammed their noses together for their trouble. Sora didn’t care, just laughed against Riku’s cheek, readjusted, and finally kissed him properly, the way he should have before the door, before the graveyard, and especially before Shibuya.

Although, Sora figured, as he felt himself waking—better late than never.

**Author's Note:**

> Howl at me on twitter @dispositiongay


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